


Irises and Feathers, Hellfire and Holy Water

by one_true_houselight



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Execution, First Kiss, It's not the most graphic, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Ridiculous outfits, also, around that though, but it's enough I want to warn you it's not mild either, lots of fluff, pain/torture, the kids come to no harm, they're fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 18:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20012737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_true_houselight/pseuds/one_true_houselight
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are trying to find a way to say how they feel when Hell and Heaven return, looking for what they believe is theirs. And this time, they didn't choose their faces wisely.





	Irises and Feathers, Hellfire and Holy Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This fic is a wild time! join me!
> 
> I would like to thank my friend Ellen for beta reading this disaster! A star and an icon! She's also doing some fantastic GO art over at @ellen-draws, go check her out!
> 
> Thanks again!

Aziraphale sat on the couch in Crowley’s flat, leg bouncing as he waited. Crowley had said he had a surprise, but Aziraphale hadn’t a clue what it could be. 

It was the end of August, two months since the world hadn’t ended on the airbase. Since that day, Aziraphale had gone to hell with Crowley’s face, and after that, he had thought things would…change, in some way. He thought the world would feel different, that he would feel different, that he and Crowley… well. Maybe they wouldn’t _feel_ different, but he had thought at the time that one of them would do something. 

But Crowley hadn’t. He couldn’t blame him for that because he hadn’t either. He has wanted to, though, too many times to count over these past months. But every time, the words died on his tongue, if they made it there at all. He had gotten a chance to chat with Sir Issac Newton (though he hadn’t been Sir at the time, of course) a few times, and Aziraphale couldn’t help that remember that one tidbit about bodies in motion. 

He and Crowley were the bodies in motion, and after orbiting each other for over 6000 years, the force necessary to change their paths would take some time to build up. 

So Aziraphale sat, waiting for Crowley to come back from whatever he was doing. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“Welcome to summer, angel!” Crowley crowed loudly before walking out from his bedroom, and Aziraphale’s protest that summer was closer to its end than its beginning died as he beheld Crowley. 

He was wearing a black tank top that said ‘Gorgeous as Hell’ in flaming letters and a wide grin. He gestured at the tank top, wiggling his eyebrows at Aziraphale. 

“Crowley, where in the world did you get that?”

“The Internet!” Aziraphale was convinced Crowley had invented the Internet, no matter how many times he said that humans had beaten him to it. “I also got the real surprise on the Internet.” 

“Oh?” Crowley reached back into his room and pulled out a shirt on a hanger. It was a light pink, and had some kind of small detailing on it that Aziraphale couldn’t see from this distance. He realized as Crowley walked towards him that the shirt was meant for him. “Crowley, you cannot be serious.”

“What? Look, look. This color matches your coloring, and all that.”

“And all that?”

“Angel, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t deal with bloody colors often. Anyway, doesn’t matter, but look! They’re sushis! You like sushi!”

“I do, yes.” Aziraphale could feel himself softening, especially after Crowley got close enough for him to see the pattern. It was cute, he had to admit, and the fact that Crowley got it for him made it better. 

“And, _and_ , it’s got a collar too, you can still wear your bow tie.” Crowley was bouncing on his feet now, showing Aziraphale the different features of the shirt. “The sleeves can roll up, or stay down, and-“

“Crowley, it’s lovely. Thank you.” Aziraphale took the shirt and looked up at Crowley, who was grinning with a bit of relief in his eyes. When he saw that last fact, he stood up and asked, “Could I use your room to change?” 

“Of course, yeah, go for it.” Crowley looked even more pleased than before, which made Aziraphale’s stomach jump a little. The thought of saying something once again crossed his mind, and once again he just smiled at Crowley and walked into the room to change. 

Once he had changed, he came back out carefully rolling up the sleeves. He looked up at Crowley to see him watching him with a small smile. He felt as if the air had been knocked out of him for a bit, but he pulled himself back to say, “How does it look?”

Crowley blinked a little before responding. “It looks nice, angel. The sleeves are a little uneven, though. May I?”

“Oh yes, go ahead.” Crowley came up and started fixing the sleeves, his fingers quickly adjusting the material. He had a neutral expression that Aziraphale tried to match, but every time Crowley’s fingers brushed Aziraphale’s skin, it felt like there was an electric jolt. 

After a period of time that felt much longer than it was, Crowley tugged one last time and stepped back. “There you go. Perfect.” They stood, the foot or so between them stretching out into miles and miles. 

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale quietly. Crowley pulled his eyes away from Aziraphale’s face and put a hand up, walking around the corner. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, trying to simultaneously take calming breaths and pretend he didn’t have to. 

“I got glasses to go with the shirt,” called Crowley, and Aziraphale did not have time to prepare for what was on Crowley’s face when he walked back out. 

“Oh good lord, Crowley.” Crowley was wearing bright orange sunglasses in the shape of flames. They covered almost all of the top half of his face, which meant that his open mouthed smile was completely visible. 

“What, you don’t like it?”

“They’re quite a lot, aren’t they?”

Crowley laughed a laugh that bordered on a cackle. ”So am I, you should know that better than anyone.”

“Yes well, you know…” _I love you_. That’s what he wanted to say, what the truth was. But Aziraphale pushed it down. It just didn’t feel like the right time, so instead he simply rolled his eyes and picked up his coat and stood up to leave. 

“You can leave your coat here, if you’d like. You know where I live.”

“That sounds good, thank you.” Aziraphale hung his coat neatly on a coat rack, and the two made their way to the Bentley. 

As they flew through London, Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, much to the angel’s dismay. “How are we going to explain why we’re there? Say we’re godfathers?”

“No, the parents are there, I think they would know their son’s godparents. Adam said to call ourselves camp counselors.”

Crowley scrunched his face at that, turning more to Aziraphale and ignored his cries of protest to say, “Counselors? Do I look like someone who would counsel?”

“Crowley, please look at the roAD,” Aziraphale yelped as the Bentley drifted towards the opposite lane. Crowley finally turned back and yanked the wheel back to his own lane. “As to your question, you are currently wearing a tank top with matching novelty sunglasses.” Crowley grunted at that. “Besides, you’ve always been good with kids.”

Crowley sent him a look at that but, to Aziraphale’s relief, kept his focus on the road. “Well, maybe,” muttered Crowley. “I’m certainly better with kids than adults. Have a bit of a softer spot for them.”

“Why is that, Crowley?”

It was a moment before he answered. “They’re innocents. Oh sure, some kids can be dicks-“

“ _Crowley._ ”

“Fine, fine, rude. But I mean in a deeper way than that. I never bought that ‘original sin’ bunk, you know? And I’ve seen enough kids who were taught awful things and treated awfully come out perfectly fine to know that adults who hold onto their pettiness choose to do so.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s voice was soft, which Crowley seemed to notice. 

“Besides, kids ask the best questions, angel. I’ve got to encourage that, don’t I?” He was clearly looking at the road now, and Aziraphale got the idea that he should drop the subject. After a pause, Crowley looked back over at Aziraphale. “Weren’t we supposed to bring something to this?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Oh, _shoot_. Maybe there’s a store at the next turning-” Crowley grinned a little and snapped his fingers. Aziraphale felt a slight change in pressure, and he looked into the back seat to see a small cooler, bouncing slightly. “Well. I suppose that works too. Should I ask what’s in there?”

“Angel food cake and deviled eggs.”

“Oh good lord, Crowley.”

“What? People in the know will think it’s hysterical!”

“I’m sure they will,” muttered Aziraphale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wicked!” Adam had taken the cooler and was looking inside with a grin. Crowley glanced at Aziraphale with a smirk, which the angel pointedly ignored. “Thank you for coming, sorry the invitation was a little last minute.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” chirped Aziraphale. “We are your camp counselors after all, dear boy.” He accompanied this statement with a clumsy wink, which made Crowley groan. Well, it made him groan outwardly, at least. In his chest, though, he felt another swell of love for Aziraphale. After 6000 years, his love was like the tide; it ebbed and flowed, sometimes it was the only thing he could think about, sometimes it simply flickered at the back of his mind. But, like the tide, it was always there, and even when he thought he was at a quieter moment, a wave could come and shake him to his very core. 

He realized at this point that he had gotten distracted by the angel, and they were being led towards groups of people milling about the garden. Luckily, Adam and Aziraphale were deep in a conversation about something, and his momentary departure from the conversation went unnoticed. 

“Crowley! Aziraphale!” They were suddenly surrounded by the rest of the Them, and Aziraphale was tugging his sleeve and pointing at the kids. 

“Yes, I see them angel.”

“Oh, kids, it’s so good to see you! How are you?” 

“We’re good Mr. Aziraphale-Oh, I’m sorry.” Brian said this last part because he had just spilled his soda on Aziraphale’s shoes. 

“Not a problem, not a problem. If you’ll just gather around real quick.” The kids carefully shuffled around the angel. “Perfect, just want to make sure no civilians see.”

“Civilians?” Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, who shrugged. 

“What would you like to call them, Crowley?” Crowley didn’t have an answer for that, so Aziraphale simply smiled softly at him before quickly snapping, vanishing the soda from his shoes. “There we go, and here you are.” He tapped Brian’s cup, which was once again filled with soda. “Do be careful.”

“Thanks, Mr. Aziraphale.”

“Oh goodness, you don’t have to call me Mr.”

“Please, it’s freaking me out,” muttered Crowley. At that, Pepper walked up to him and squinted up at him. “Hello, Pepper.”

“Are you still a demon?” Crowley sputtered a bit at that. 

“I-what kind of a-bloody _hell_ ,” which elicited an annoyed ‘tsk’ from Aziraphale. “Sorry, sorry. I swear to someone, though, why do people always ask me that?”

“Well, are you?”

“What do you think?”

“Actually,” said Wensleydale, “it would be difficult to predict given the strange things that happened in your company.”

Crowley sighed. “Alright, I suppose that’s fair.” He lifted up his glasses to give them a look at his golden eyes before dropping them back down. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask him if he was still an angel.”

“Well I was getting there, but demons are much cooler than angels.”

Adam’s eyes were wide. “Your eyes are wicked, Crowley.”

“In more ways than one, Adam. And did you hear that angel? I’m cooler than you.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale and winked. Even though he couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes, he still sighed dramatically at him. 

“I suppose that is true from some perspectives, yes.” At that point, there were calls from the larger party for the children, so Crowley and Aziraphale were pulled along. Crowley looked over at Aziraphale, who looked a little surprised to be surrounded by people who wanted him around. Crowley smiled at him and patted his shoulder, and the thought of reaching out and taking his hand crossed his mind. Watching Aziraphale as he glowed, adding light to the surrounding countryside for miles, Crowley sighed a little, sighed at what could be. 

But he shook himself out of it. Now wasn’t the time. This was a time for friends, for celebrating with the team who helped save the world. He ignored the squirming feeling in his gut that reminded him that he has been making excuses for the last two months. It didn’t matter. He had been here for 6000 years, and as he looked at Aziraphale shaking the hand of Adam’s father, he quieted the feeling with the fact that no matter what, he had Aziraphale, and that was enough. 

“Do I know you two?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley nervously as Mr. Young tilted his head, looking at the two of them. The last time they had seen him was when his son had dissolved Satan, Aziraphale had a flaming sword, and Crowley had a tire iron. No one involved in that scene wanted to try and explain that today, so Adam stepped up and smiled at his dad. 

“Dad, these are the two summer camp counselors I told you about. You probably saw them when you dropped me off.” His dad nodded slowly, and held his hand out for Crowley and Aziraphale to shake. Relieved, they shook it in turn. 

“Do you need fridge space for your food?”

“Oh, yes, probably at least the eggs.” 

Adam held up the cooler, which he was still carrying. “I’ve got it, dad!” He ran off, leaving the three adults to talk. Well, one adult and two adult-shaped entities. 

“So, you were summer camp counselors?” Aziraphale nodded quickly, and Crowley smiled vaguely. “Very good, very good. What, ah, what did you all teach?”

“Oh. Um-”

“Fire building.” Aziraphale wheeled around to stare at Crowley, amusement and horror fighting for dominance in his expression. “And fire safety, of course.”

“Ah, very good. I’ve always said young boys-I’m sorry, young children should know some good survival skills.” Mr. Young pointed out Pepper, who was running around with the Them, trying out food. “She’s been helping me be more equitable in my speech, in regards to gender.”

“She would do that, yes,” said Crowley, glancing over at Pepper. He had watched her call War herself sexist and kick her in the shin, so schooling her friend's father seemed well within her right. He turned back to Aziraphale and smiled innocently. “And why don’t you talk about your job, Aziraphale?”

“Yes. Of course, Crowley. I, well, do arts and crafts. With nature.” His words were a little stumbly, but his smile was as bright as ever, and it seemed to put Mr. Young at ease. It put Crowley at ease too, but that wasn’t news to anyone at this point. 

“Very nice. Ah, hm.” Mr. Young hesitated. “Could I ask you something?”

“I certainly believe you can.” Crowley knew Aziraphale sent him a look without even looking at him. 

Mr. Young didn’t seem to notice his comment, however, because words were now bumping into each other in order to get out of his head. “I-well, if it isn’t an improper question, of course, I was wondering-me and the wife were wondering, if, well, how was Adam at camp?”

“Oh. No, don’t worry, he was…” Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. 

“Oh no, he did something, didn’t he? My wife and I, we’ve been worried about him, especially with the airfield-” Mr. Young stopped at that, and Crowley saw a creeping realization begin. _Shit._

“No, no no no. Nothing like that, Mr. Young. Adam’s a good kid, fine kid.” He sent a _look_ at Aziraphale, who understood and quickly jumped in. 

“Yes, he was just lovely to work with, ah-”

“-asked questions-” 

“-tried his best. All the time. I do think you’ve got quite a remarkable boy there, Mr. Young.” Both Aziraphale and Crowley grinned at this point, and the mixture of the angel’s mega-watt grin and the slightly unsettling feeling from Crowley seemed to stop Mr. Young from continuing down the path of recognizing them from the end of the world. 

“Jolly good, then. Thank you, great to hear that.” At that point, Crowley felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Anathema and Newt standing behind him, each carrying a tray covered in foil. Mr. Young noticed them too, saying, “Oh! Anathema, Newt, welcome! Thank you so much for coming.”

“Hello, Mr. Young, thank you for inviting us. What should we do with these?” asked Anathema, holding up her tray.

“Oh, they can go on the-Adam!” Adam seemed to appear next to them, grinning. “Adam, could you take one of these trays and help me bring them to the table?”

“Sure, dad. Hi Anathema, hi Newt.” Anathema nodded at the boy before handing him her tray, and Newt awkwardly tried to move his tray to one hand to wave, almost dropping it. Crowley reached out a hand and saved it, taking it and handing it to Mr. Young.

“Thank you, Crowley,” said Newt, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“Oh, do you all know each other?”

“We’ve met in passing.” 

Mr. Young beamed. “Oh, that’s just lovely. Well, I’ll be off to put this down and do some other things, come on Adam.” Adam followed his dad, winking at the new group of four. 

Aziraphale turned to the newly arrived couple and sighed happily. “Oh, it is wonderful to see you two. May I give you a hug?” Anathema and Newt nodded, and Aziraphale hugged them before stepping back, saying, “How have you been? Still in Jasmine Cottage? Oh, how-”

“Angel, don’t overwhelm them with questions, that’s my job.” Anathema quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m the questions guy, it’s my thing. My schtick.”

Anathema shrugged. “We’ve been good, Aziraphale, I’m writing for an occult website.”

“I’m working in the theatre now.” Newt smiled a little, clearly pleased. 

“Oh? That’s fantastic, you know, Crowley and I saw some of Shakespeare’s work at the Globe.”

“You certainly saw some of Shakepeare’s work, angel.” Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley smiled softly at him. “Now, Newt, what are you doing in the theatre?” 

“Backstage work. There’s enough that works without computers that it’s actually going well.”

“They haven’t asked you to use any of the new flashy lights?”

“Oh, they did, once,” explained Newt. “It crashed, obviously. But they said it happens all the time, not to worry, and believed me when I said I don’t do well with computers and keep me away from them now. I’m kind of like the M word.”

“The M word?”

“Shakespeare play, three witches.” Crowley thought about that for a moment, then he snapped, seemingly remembering something. 

“Oh, right! Mac-“

“No!” Crowley looked at the others and grinned. Anathema and Newt unconsciously took half a step backwards at the way the shadows played on his face, but Aziraphale was far too used to this kind of behavior to be disturbed. Crowley relaxed his face a bit, mumurring, “Old habits die hard, you know. Chaos, all that.”

“Yes, Crowley,” sighed Aziraphale. 

Anathema, rallying magnificently, asked, “So, what have you two been up to?”

“He’s still running his book shop,” Crowley said, gesturing at Aziraphale, “And I hang around, I guess. Been thinking about what I want to ‘do with my life’, as they say.” 

“Quite a question, isn’t it?” Newt shuffled awkwardly. “I always hated when they asked that question in school.” Anathema rubbed his back a little, making Newt smile. “But I’m sure you’ll find something! You seem competent.”

“He does?” The adults turned to see that the Them had come up, significantly more muddy than they had been the last time Crowley had seen them. Adam was grinning at Crowley, who gave him a sarcastic smile in return. “I’m joking. Just excited to have the Extended Them together again.”

“Wait, are you inducting us into the _Them_?” 

“The Extended Them, and yeah, why not? We did save the world together.”

“Well,” said Anathema carefully, “Thank you very much Adam, we’re honored.” She sent a look at Crowley, clearly expecting him to object, but he shrugged. He didn’t mind this new development; The original Them certainly was a group worth reckoning with, so he didn’t think this honor was particularly dubious. 

“What about Sergeant Shadwell, and Madame Tracy?”

“They did help save the world,” agreed Azirapahale. “Got me there for one-”

“Kept you two from killing me.” Aziraphale looked over at Adam, a guilty look settling on his face. 

“I am sorry about that, Adam. I think we both are.” Crowley nodded. 

“Ah, it’s alright.” Adam flashed them a smile. “There was a lot happening that day, you know? It all worked out in the end.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Aziraphale smiled back, and then the call came that food was coming out, and the Extended Them made their way over. 

Someone pulled out a bottle of wine during the evening, and Aziraphale decided to partake. He offered Crowley a glass, which he declined. 

“I’m driving, angel.”

“Well, yes, but you could just sober up.”

“Not everyone here knows that, want to look _responsible_.” Aziraphale nodded sagely, then took a sip of the wine.

“Oh my! This is marvelous, I must go ask what kind this is.” He bustled off, and Crowley watched him go, a small smile on his face. 

“Are you two dating yet?” Crowley jumped a bit, then spun around to find Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale watching him. 

“ _What?_ What kind of a-how-what?”

“Ah. So you’re not, then,” said Wensley, who then proceeded to knowingly eat a chunk of watermelon. 

“Figures.”

“What do you mean, it _figures_ , Brian? I am over 6000 years old,” Crowley hissed, “please respect your elders!”

“Wow, 6000 years, and you haven’t learned how to talk to each other.”

“We talk, it’s just, well, complicated. Besides, Pepper, wouldn’t you just say we were just ‘deluded victims of the patriarchy’? Or is that just Anathema?”

Pepper gave him a withering look. “I wasn’t _talking_ about Anathema, I was talking about Newt. You know men can be victims of the patriarchy, don’t you?” Before he could answer, she continued, “He clearly believed he couldn’t actively pursue a relationship based on mutual trust and understanding, even though that’s what he wanted, so was surprised when she initiated it. You and Aziraphale are not suffering that. You’re just idiots in love.”

Crowley stood there, mouth agape. “I-I-ah-uh-well-” He almost wished he had taken Aziraphale up on the wine. 

“Why _are_ you so nervous, Crowley?” Part of Crowley couldn’t believe he was having this discussion with a bunch of children. On the other hand, he had just been inducted in the Extended Them, and he supposed this is what you did in a group like that. He sighed and sat down, a chair appearing under him.

“Do you want chairs?” The kids shook their heads and sat down on the ground. “Right, well, here’s the thing. Well, it’s a couple of things. I’ve known Aziraphale for over 6000 years, met him in the beginning, Garden of Eden. And for all that time, we had to keep it all a secret, and I figured, and I think he did as well, that distance was the smart thing to maintain.”

“Actually, though,” Wensleydale started, and Crowley marveled at his ability to start sentences with ‘actually’ when the word had no bearing on the situation. “You and Aziraphale aren’t working for Heaven and Hell anymore, so that’s not applicable.”

“Yes, Wensley, but after dealing with it for 6000 years, it’s probably hard to get out of the habit-”

“Thank you, Pepper, yes.”

“- _but_ , he did say there were a couple of things, so I think there’s more to it as well.”

Crowley sighed a little. “Yeah. It’s just...I’m fallen. Been fallen for a while now, so I looked at Heaven and went ‘that’s rubbish’, and then looked at Hell and went, ‘eh, so are you’, but the thing with that is, Hell got annoyed with me sometimes, but they just brute strength the issue.” The kids eyes widened a little at that. “Well, it is Hell, you know. And I just shouldered through it.” 

“Anyway, the problem is, Heaven? Aziraphale’s bosses? They manipulated him, treated him like dirt, made him chase things that were never there. He was doing actual good, but it was never enough for them, because they thought he was a soft fool. They played mind games with him, and it’s taken six _thousand_ years for him to make any headway against them. So now he’s here, trying to swim after years of being held just below the water, and I want to help him. And whatever we have, whatever we feel for each other, it was a part of this whole web.” Crowley leaned back a little, trying to find the words to explain. 

“You don’t want him to feel manipulated by you.” Brian was quiet, but Crowley was still knocked out by his words as if he’d shouted them. “He’s so used to trying to please people, you’re scared he’ll say yes just to please you.”

Crowley nodded, and finally found the ability to speak again. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”

“Crowley!” They all turned to see Aziraphale waving from the table. “Anathema brought crepes!”

“Be there in a minute, angel!” Crowley turned back and asked, “Well, any more questions?”

“Questions, no,” said Pepper, shifting on the ground. “But I think you should talk to him. Be honest about this stuff, you know?”

“I don’t know-“

“Actually, I agree with Pepper. Just waiting for an indeterminate amount of time is silly when talking about the things happening will be healthier.”

“Yeah, you can't figure out something you never start.” Pepper smiles a little. “But, what do we know? We are just kids.”

“Oh, _now_ you tell me.” But Crowley was smiling as he stood up, the chair vanishing. “Thanks for your thoughts. I will take them under advisement.” The kids grinned and ran off, presumably to find more ways to make their parents’ investment in a washing machine worthwhile. Crowley wandered over to where Aziraphale was valiantly trying to serve himself a crepe. 

“Crowley! Look, don’t they look delightful?” Crowley watched as Aziraphale missed his plate entirely and dropped the crepe back onto the tray. “Oh dear.”

“Allow me, angel.” Crowley grabbed the tongs and plopped the crepe onto Aziraphale’s plate. 

“Oh, thank you, Crowley. I’ve been having such trouble.” Aziraphale’s blue eyes were sparkling such that it took quite an effort on Crowley’s part to respond coherently. 

“Oh, yes, of course. No problem. Aziraphale, how much wine have you had?”

“I’m not quite sure. Half the bottle, three quarters maybe?”

“For somebody’s sake, three quarters?”

“Oh, good lord, Crowley, that’s not that much,” Aziraphale said, trying to spear a grape with a toothpick. “We’ve drunk more than that before.”

“Yes, but you are a lightweight, angel.”

“Well, yes, but it was very good wine.” Crowley heard a hint of shame in Aziraphale’s tone, and realized his teasing must have cut deeper than he’d expected. 

“I’m sure it was. Didn’t mean to make you feel bad, just don’t see you kick back like this very often.” 

Aziraphale smiled at him. “Oh, you’re fine, but thank you. I am a little out of sorts.” He finally skewered the grape, and triumphantly ate it. “But it does feel nice!” 

“Good. Feeling nice is good. Just do me a favor and have a glass of water before you jump back into the wine.”

“Can do!” Crowley looked around and tapped Aziraphale’s cup, filling it with water. “Oh, thank you, Crowley. Shall we go walk around?”

“I’d love to.” 

Crowley and Aziraphale wandered the party, mingling in various groups and running into members of the newly Extended Them (Newt called it the ‘Extended Them-atic Universe’, and Pepper threatened to kick him out). Aziraphale ended up finishing the bottle of wine, though he switched between it and water. 

As dusk took over the sky, Adam ran up to where Crowley and Aziraphale sat. “Do you all want to watch the fireworks? We’re setting them off in a field that way.”

Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “How about it, angel? Want to go make some things explode?”

Aziraphale giggled, cheeks slightly flushed from the wine. “I do love the colors they make.”

“We’re in. Who else?”

“Just the Extended Them, I think I can convince my dad if I bring you two, and Anathema and Newt.”

“Probably, especially because I said I was a fire expert at summer camp,” Crowley said with a smile.

“ _Brilliant_. I’ll go collect everyone, meet out front in five minutes?” Crowley nodded, and Adam ran off to find the others. 

Crowley got up and stretched a little, then extended a hand for Aziraphale. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Aziraphale got up, a little unsteady on his feet, and grabbed Crowley’s shoulder with his other hand. He stood like that for a moment, swaying, but then he got his balance. He didn’t let go. Crowley felt every ounce of oxygen leave his body, and he fought to keep his expression calm. He felt Aziraphale squeeze his shoulder before whispering, “Thank you, I lost my balance for a second.” 

“Of course.” Finally, Aziraphale’s hand left his shoulder and they walked towards the place Adam had indicated. Crowley didn’t become truly aware of his surroundings again until they had reached the field where they were going to set the fireworks off.

Crowley went off to help set up them up while Aziraphale walked around making sure nobody needed ear protection. Newt accepted, as did Pepper and Wensleydale, and once they were taken care of, Aziraphale miracled himself a pair and gave Crowley a thumbs up. 

Once Crowley and the original Them had the fireworks set up, Crowley glanced over and asked, “Do you want me to just, you know…” And he snapped, lighting a small flame in his hand. “Probably the safest thing, in the end.”

“Hell yeah, I want to see them all go at once!”

“Alright then, let’s get everyone to a safe distance.” They went and herded people away from the launch area, Aziraphale miracling a few blankets to sit on. Once everyone was settled, Crowley snapped his fingers, and he watched as ten fuses lit and sparkled across the field. 

He was seated next to Aziraphale, his own laid back position looking even more casual next to Aziraphale’s neatly crossed legs. “How’re you feeling, angel?” 

“Good. A little light-headed, if I’m being honest.” Crowley sat up a little, absentmindedly rubbing Aziraphale’s back. 

“You can lean on me, if you need.”

“I always can, Crowley.” Before Crowley could begin to process that, the flames reached their payload, and a cacophony of bangs went off, sending jets of sparks and colored fire into the sky. Crowley stared at Aziraphale, what he had just said spinning through his head as the colors reflected off the angel’s upturned face. 

Both angel and demon watched the fireworks that night. Crowley just watched them as reflected in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

Soon enough, the show ended, and the Extended Them stood back up, cheering for the fading impressions on the darkening sky. Crowley miracled some trash bags, and they all started cleaning up the debris, chatting as the stars lit up above them. Soon enough, everything was bagged up, and they walked back to Adam’s house before saying goodbye. The kids went with their parents, Anathema and Newt walked back to Jasmine Cottage, and Aziraphale and Crowley got into the Bentley. 

As they drove, Aziraphale stared out the window. “It really is a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Yes, very nice weather.”

“Would you like to go for a walk, or do you need to get to sleep?”

Crowley scoffed. “I never _need_ to sleep, angel, and yes, a walk sounds lovely.” Aziraphale smiled, then closed his eyes and hummed a tune Crowley didn’t recognize. Crowley smiled at the road, thinking about what he’d just said. 

It was true he didn’t need sleep, just like neither of them needed water or food or even air. But he found a kind of comfort in it, sometimes too much (a certain century-long nap came to mind). But in this instance, he found infinitely more comfort in Aziraphale’s presence, so he drove them to St. James Park.

They walked around the park, talking about the night, Aziraphale stumbling a little every once in a while as he tried to turn too far to look at a duck. Crowley was discussing a soup that had been brought that night, and how, “It really reminded me of that one soup we had in Rome, 41, 42 AD, you remember?” He looked over to see that Aziraphale was tearing up. “Angel? What’s wrong? Is it something I-”

“Oh, Crowley, look at that _dog_.” Crowley turned to where Aziraphale was looking, and saw a fluffy golden retriever walking next to its owner down the path. “It’s adorable!”

“Oh. I thought something was wrong.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I’m just emotional about this dog, it’s so soft, and it’s smiling, Crowley!”

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like me to ask if you can pet the dog?”

“Oh, would you? I’d be ever so grateful.” Crowley sighed, patted Aziraphale on the shoulder, and walked over to the young woman holding the leash. He slowed down a little as he approached, trying to look non-threatening. 

“Hello, hi, sorry, could my friend and I pet your dog?” She looked at him, then at teary-eyed Aziraphale, and nodded. 

“Sure, he’s friendly.” Crowley motioned for Aziraphale to come over, kneeling down to pat the dog’s head. It looked up at him, panting, as Aziraphale came over. 

“Oh my lord, look at you!” Aziraphale sat fully down on the pavement and started scratching the dog’s head. “What is your name, darling?”

“Buttercup.”

“Crowley.” The woman looked at him strangely. “Just a joke, sorry.” Aziraphale appeared not to have heard, or at least wasn’t acknowledging it as he cooed at Buttercup. Buttercup seemed to have taken a liking to Aziraphale, and was showing this by licking every inch of his face that she could reach. 

“Crowley, I think she likes me!”

“I would say so, yeah. Kind of looks like you too.” And she did, both dog and angel golden and joyful under the moonlight. 

“Oh stop it, I am not as adorable as this precious creature, am I, Buttercup?” Crowley chose not to respond to that statement, but instead stood up and made idle chatter with Buttercup’s owner (Martha, doing her Master’s in some kind of biology, can only walk Buttercup at night) while Aziraphale cuddled her dog. 

After about five minutes, Crowley leaned over. “Come on, angel, Martha has some studying to do.”

Aziraphale looked up, a little dazed. “Who’s Martha?” Crowley gestured to the owner. “Oh good lord, I’m sorry, I’ve been keeping you!” He hopped up and offered his hand. “A. Z. Fell, own a bookshop in Soho if you ever need a book, or place to study.”

“Thanks, man. Have a good night.” She walked on, and Crowley and Aziraphale walked in the other direction. 

“I put a bit of a protection on her, to make sure she gets home safe. Oh, what a adorable dog.”

“Good job, angel. Looks like you made a friend in Buttercup.” Aziraphale laughed.

“Yes, I suppose I did.” A silence fell at that point, and they simply walked, letting the night air cover them like a blanket. 

Finally, Aziraphale broke the silence. “Crowley, I think I should sober up.”

“Up to you.”

“Yes. Well, I have something I...wish to discuss with you, and I don’t want to do it drunk.” Crowley looked over, but couldn’t read anything in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

Trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, he managed, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes, yes. Don’t worry, just give me a moment.” Aziraphale stopped walking and closed his eyes. 

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No, no,” said Aziraphale, voice strained, “Almost done anyway.” He opened his eyes again, and they were much clearer. His face scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out. “Ugh. My mouth feels like the desert.”

They started walking again, and there was silence. “Did you decide not to tell me?”

Aziraphale sent a sharp look at him. “What?”

“Tell me what you were going to tell me.”

“No. I’m just...trying to find the words.” Crowley nodded. “It’s hard, you see. It’s something that I’ve wanted to discuss for a while now, but now that I actually want to do it-”

“You’re scared.”

“Exactly, and why should I be? Nothing should be scary with you.”

“That’s how I’d like it to be, yeah.”

“Yes, and we’ve known each other for so long, yet it shakes me to my core just to say-” They had been walking through this discussion, which is why it was brought to a screeching halt when _something_ stopped them both dead in their tracks. Crowley felt as if a weight had been dropped in his stomach, and two more deposited on his shoes. 

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes?” Both of their voices were trying (and failing) not to tremble. 

“I can’t move.”

“Neither can I.”

“Why can’t we move?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley’s hand. “Let’s try to do a cleansing, or something, together. Maybe that will help.”

Crowley looked into the night, searching for answers. “Yeah, alright, basic cleansing, might give us an idea.” And Crowley tried, but it was like expecting there to be a step on your way down, but instead there was an endless void. He had never thought about using his power before, it just came, but now there was something missing deep inside of him. “It’s not working.”

“Mine either-oh.” Aziraphale was looking at something on the ground. Crowley looked down and felt the last shred of calm leave his body. 

They were standing in a faintly glowing circle, and Crowley recognized both demonic and angelic runes. As it faded, Crowley realized it must have been glowing from the attempt at a cleansing. 

“It’s a trap. Set for us. Which means-”

“Crowley and Aziraphale, Heaven and Hell’s favorite odd couple. We meet again.” And Crowley looked up to see that they were now surrounded by angels and demons. Some looked bored, some looked scared, but Beelzebub and Gabriel were front and center, and they looked pleased as punch.”How are you two doing?”

“Well, actually, pretty good, just got back from a party, had some good crepes, great wine, fun times. What have you all been up to?” Crowley realized he was still holding Azirapahle’s hand when he felt it tighten, and he squeezed back. 

“Oh, not much, just a lot of thinking. Thinking about how the world didn’t end because of you two, how we then tried to execute you for it, and that not working either…”

“We’re onto your trickszzz, traitor.”

“Again with the traitor thing, Beelzebub!” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “For somebody’s sake-”

“Not for yours, I’m afraid. Aziraphale, you’ve been awfully quiet.” And Crowley looked over to see Aziraphale trembling, but still staring daggers at Gabriel. “What, is your inner coward holding your tongue?”

“Why won’t you leave us in _peace_?” Aziraphale’s voice was still shaking, but now it was with rage. “Why-”

“Because there shouldn’t be peace right now!” Gabriel’s eyes were shining, pleased to get to play with Aziraphale once more.

“There should a war for us to win!” Gabriel scoffed at that, but Beelzebub ignored him. “You two have disrupted the order of things.”

“ _Your_ order, not _the_ order! God gave the world free will, I don’t see-” Gabriel reached out and tapped Aziraphale’s forehead, and Aziraphale slumped over, hand falling from Crowley’s. 

“No,” whispered Crowley, catching Aziraphale and laying him down. Not looking up, he growled, “What have you done to him?”

“Oh, he’s fine, just asleep. I just remembered how much I hated his stupid voice.”

Crowley stood up at that point. “Oh, fine then. Well then you get to listen to _my_ stupid voice, because your angelic tricks won’t work on me, and it’s going to tell you that you’re a-” 

_Bang_. Crowley slumped over on top of Aziraphale, Hastur standing over him wielding a crowbar. “Their tricks may not work, but a crowbar seems to do the trick.” Gabriel and Beelzebub both clapped, and a crack appeared in the circle on the ground, allowing the surrounding forces to grab the unconscious pair and whisk them away. 

A few blocks away, Buttercup started barking, and Martha never really figured out why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale suddenly woke up, finding himself in a glass room, sitting in a chair. He slowly stood up, surprised he wasn’t tied down. “Crowley?” 

“Your boyfriend can’t come to the phone right now, please leave a message.” Aziraphale spun around to see Gabriel and Michael looking in on him. He also realized that the room wasn’t completely glass; one wall was plain white and completely solid. 

“Where have you taken him?”

“We haven’t taken him anywhere. His people are dealing with him.”

“They’re not his people, not any more than you are mine.” Gabriel laughed at that, and walked closer to the glass. 

“Oh, we are your people, Aziraphale. Always have been, always will be. You can try to run, but you always come back to us.”

“No.” Aziraphale stepped closer too. “You are cruel, and twist the meaning of good to your own ends, I will have no part in it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Aziraphale,” Michael said, a deadly calm to her voice. “You will not, because we are going to execute you, properly this time.”

“But not yet. We want to watch you squirm for a few days, it’ll be fun.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale stalked over and turned the chair around and sat down, facing them. “Watch away.”

“Oh, we won’t be watching you. They will be.” Gabriel pointed to the corner of the room, and Aziraphale looked to see a number of white spheres floating ominously around him. 

“What in the-” And then the orbs spoke, together at first, but soon they became dissonant whispers echoing around the chamber. 

_You are a fool, Aziraphale_

_Worthless, can’t even hold on to a sword_

_Soft, idiotic, wouldn’t know a good idea if it hit him in the face_

_Can’t even save the one he loves the most_

_Incompetant_

_Foolish, foolish angel_

Gabriel and Michael watched for a while, and Aziraphale stared back, stone faced. It was only when they left the room that he curled up in a ball, trying to drown out the voices repeating all of his worst fears. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley was pacing his own glass room, snarling at the demons gathered around him. He didn’t know how long he’d been here, and didn’t particularly care anymore. There was a disturbance outside the glass behind him, and he spun around to see Beelzebub parting the crowd to approach his chamber. 

“Ah, Beelzebub, good to see you. How’re things in hell?”

“Shut up, Crowley.”

Crowley’s smile disappeared, and he stormed up to where Beelzebub was standing and pressed his face to the glass. “Where. Is. Aziraphale?”

“Don’t know. Angels took him, and good riddance.” Crowley turned back around and kept pacing. 

“Fine. Just kill me then, you have me.” When there was no response, he spun back around and screamed, “DO IT,” his throat hurting from the fury in his words. 

“I don’t believe you give the orders, Crowley.”

“Why are you keeping me around any longer than you have to? Just finish it, it’s over, you’ve won, good for you.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet. We all here in hell wanted a chance to watch a traitor suffer a bit before we kill you, didn’t we?” The surrounding demons jeered. “And I do hate to deny them a show.”

Without another word, Crowley’s head was filled with white hot pain. He screamed, dropping to his knees. Something he couldn’t see bowled him over from behind, and he landed hard on his jaw. A sharp thing, so cold it was hot, pierced his spine over and over, and Crowley didn’t know if the sounds he was hearing were his brain misfiring, or his own shrieks. 

Suddenly, it all stopped. He shakily got to his feet, brushing off his clothes, glad his sunglasses hid his tears. “S’that all you’ve got? Pathe-” Then he went flying into the wall, and he heard some bones crack, pain flaring up throughout his chest. Knives were pulled through his leg muscles, and as he screamed, he heard a voice in his head. 

_I can do this for as long as I want, Crowley. Any requests? I was thinking of peeling off your skin real slowly, then putting it back on and doing it again, next. Then, maybe some old-fashioned favorites. Whips, pitchforks, fire and ice in places you can’t even imagine. You’ll be begging for the holy water soon enough._

“I already am, you bastard,” he managed to choke out, but then another wave of pain keeled him over, and time stopped meaning a damned thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was silence. It took a moment for Aziraphale to realize this, because he hadn’t known silence for some time now. He couldn’t say how long he’d been in this chamber of horrors, but it had been long enough that he’d stopped trying to wipe away his tears. He stared at the one blank wall, something he’d been doing for almost as long as the whispers had been happening. 

“Aziraphale?” He ignored the voice. He had gotten good at that. “Azirapahle, it is time for your execution.”

“Fine. Let hellfire rain down upon me, then.” He didn’t turn, didn’t look at what he assumed to be assembled angels. He wouldn’t give them that pleasure.

“Oh, you misunderstand. See, what you and Crowley did was so heinous a treason, we decided to up the ante a little.” The wall in front of him wavered, then turned to glass. Beyond it lay another room, identical to his own in all but one way: instead of a renegade angel sitting stiffly in a chair, it contained a traitorous demon, slumped on the floor. Aziraphale’s heart stopped. 

“You will not only die yourselves, painfully, but you will watch the other die as well.” Aziraphale barely absorbed the words as he stood up and stumbled to the wall dividing his and Crowley’s rooms. 

“Crowley? Crowley, are you there?” He watched as Crowley stirred slightly. “Crowley, it’s me, please wake up.” Finally, Crowley lifted his head and stared at Aziraphale. Suddenly he was upright and staggering across the room, until his hand was on the glass. 

“Aziraphale.” The angel couldn’t speak for a bit, because now he could see Crowley, see all the bruises and cuts and burns, how lifeless his golden eyes looked. 

“What have they done to you?”

“Oh, you know,” Crowley said, his try at nonchalance woefully unsuccessful. “Classic torture, pits of fire, whips of ice, that sort of thing. How are you?”

“I-”

“Aziraphale is fine, he just got to listen to the truth for a bit. The truth about how much of a failure he is, how he’s a pathetic excuse for a-”

“Shut. up.” Crowley was moving towards Gabriel now, who Aziraphale finally saw was standing outside their chambers, along with what must have been close to all of the hosts of Heaven and Hell. “Aziraphale was too good for any of you lot, you winged bastard.”

“Aww, how adorable, he’s standing up for his boyfriend.” Crowley flipped them all the bird and turned back to Aziraphale. 

“What happening, angel? Why are we here?”

“These are our execution chambers, I believe.”

“He’s right, for once.” Beelzebub stepped forward, grinning. “You will die here, and watch the other die too. Poetic, is it not?”

Crowley paled, and he walked slowly up to the glass. “Please. Take me, just let him go. Keep torturing me until you’ve had your fill, but I cannot watch him die.”

“Crowley, no.” Aziraphale stepped up, shaking slightly. “I will take it on for both of us. It is my duty to protect, to forgive.”

“Absolutely not, Aziraphale, won’t hear of it. I already fell, I can handle it-”

“No. I will not allow it! I-”

Gabriel sighed. “As fun as this is to watch, we do have other things to do.” He turned to Beelzebub. “Shall we?”

“Sure, this is getting too sappy for me.” They both snapped, and Crowley yelped, spreading his wings and flying a few inches off the ground. Aziraphale heard a whoosh above him, and looked up to see what could only be hellfire raging above him. 

Crowley’s room had sprouted a spigot, and it was pumping holy water into the chamber. Crowley swore and flew upwards, trying not to get too far away from Aziraphale. In response, Aziraphale opened his wings and joined him, both trying to get as far away from their deaths as possible while still remaining near the other. 

“I guess this is it, then.” Aziraphale could see tendrils of smoke reaching down, and when he accidentally breathed one in, it burned, worse than any smoke on earth. He started coughing, almost doubling over from the effort. When it finally subsided, he looked up to see Crowley pressed against the glass, crying. He pressed himself to it as well.

Crowley curled in on himself a little, hissing. Aziraphale could see his skin turning red, and smoking a little. “Holy water is steaming, I think. Not enough to kill me yet, though.”

Aziraphale choked out a sob. “I’m sorry, Crowley.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes I do. I, I, could have done something, been more careful-”

“No, angel, stop it. None of this is your fault.”

“But I made you wait.” Crowley froze, eyes closed. “I was scared, and it took me so long to figure it out and I still couldn’t say yes, Crowley, I’m so, so sorry-”

Crowley opened his eyes and seemed to stare into Aziraphale’s soul. Aziraphale felt his breath catch at the expression on his face; it wasn’t mad, or scared, or anything like that. It was pure intensity, and it was a sight to behold. Then Crowley raised a hand and started hitting the glass, harder than Aziraphale had ever seen anything hit before. Hurricanes, tornadoes, wrecking balls all paled in comparison, and after a few blows, the glass between them cracked, then broke after two more. Crowley reached out and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, his own covered in black blood. 

“Crowley-”

“You. Have. _Nothing._ to apologize for. I would rather spend a thousand days in holy water than see you feel forced to do anything for my sake.” Aziraphale couldn't speak. “I love you, angel, and I will not stand to have you apologizing to me be your last words.”

“I love you too, Crowley. Those will be the last words, I love you. I love you so much, I can’t breathe-” Another tendril of smoke found its way into his lungs and he wheezed, eyesight failing for a moment. 

Crowley let out a low scream, skin breaking out in burns all over, but he managed to get out, “I love you, I have always loved you, your kindness, your cleverness, and I will continue to love you until this water strips away the last of my being.”

Without thinking, Aziraphale grabbed the edge of the hole Crowley had made and pulled, creating more cracks, more room, and he grabbed through the hole to Crowley’s face. “Do you mind,” he panted, breathing becoming harder and harder, “if I kiss you?”

“Not even a little bit, Aziraphale.” And then they were together, mouths fitting perfectly together. They could feel the others tears on their faces, and that made them cry more. What a fitting final moment, two star crossed lovers together as their essences burn-

Without warning, Crowley and Aziraphale feel their insides shift, just a little at first, and then a lot. They feel as if they are flying to great heights and falling to low depths all at once, and then the world goes black, the last thing they feel before succumbing the feeling of their fingers entwined. 

And then Crowley wakes up, slowly this time. He’s staring up at a glass ceiling, and he feels weightless. His first thought is that he must have found the afterlife for entities, and all he could hope was that Aziraphale was here too. 

Then a sound finally made its way to his brain, and it was the sloshing of a copious amount of water, and he finally realized he was floating, and the glass ceiling was the one of his chamber. He turned wildly, looking at his hands, which looked...fine. More than fine, they were intact. Had the water been turned into something mundane? No. He let his sense fan out, and he could feel the hum of holy energy surrounding him. Then how was he alive?

He suddenly remembered something else. “Aziraphale!” He flipped over and tried to swim for the other wall, and he saw nothing but flame. The hellfire had consumed the room, he knew it was hellfire, he could feel it too. “No, oh god no, please-”

“Crowley?” Crowley threw himself through the water, running into the glass divide, and he finally saw him, Aziraphale, picking himself off the floor and straightening his shirt. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m right here, I-” And then Crowley saw Aziraphale’s wings. Once an even, fluffy white, they were now intricately mottled with blacks, browns, and tawny. 

“What is it?”

“Your wings,” Crowley said, his voice quiet. Aziraphale furrowed his brow and folded a wing over his shoulder to look at. “Oh! That’s quite lovely, actually, I thought from your expression they had burned off.”

Crowley grabbed at his own wing, and its black had changed as well; swirls of brown, tan and white now danced through the dark feathers. “Funny that. Mine have done it too.” Aziraphale walked hesitantly up to the glass, and Crowley got his second shock: The angel’s eyes had changed as well. Once blue, they were now a soft green, staring at him through the glass. 

“Crowley, your eyes.” Aziraphale put a hand up to the glass.

“Are they green now?” Aziraphale nodded. “Yours too, it’s quite nice, actually.”

“Thank you. Yours as well. Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“How, _precisely_ , are we alive?”

“Not a clue.” Crowley turned his head slightly, and noticed the audience outside their rooms. All of their mouths were agape. “Hey, we’re talking here, move along.” He turned back to Aziraphale. “Maybe we’ve evolved?”

“How would that work?”

“Do I look like a celestial evolution expert to you?”

“I suppose not.” Aziraphale looked around the room and huffed. “Oh this is-” He turned on his heel and stalked up to where the angels and demons were frozen. “Could we get out, please? I don’t think your plan is working, and it’s getting rather hot over here.”

“Yeah, I’m getting tired of treading holy water, if I’m being honest.”

Gabriel stepped forward, clearly shaking with unbridled rage. “Do you honestly think we’re just going to let you out? No, you’ll stay there, and we’ll come up with-”

“Oh, shut the hell up, Gabriel.” Aziraphale made a rude expression at the archangel and, to the surprise of everyone, particularly Aziraphale, the glass cracked, then broke, releasing a torrent of hellfire from the room. “Oh. That’s new.”

On the other side, angels fled the deadly flames, and Crowley looked at his own hand. “Interesting.” He pointed at the glass and snapped, and it cracked as well. The water pushed up against it, then broke through, flooding the outer room with water. Most of the demons made it out in time. A few did not. 

Aziraphale cleared out some more glass, then made to step through. “Wait, Aziraphale.” The angel stopped. “What if our immunities just switched?”

“Good point.” Aziraphale thought for a second. “Will a drop kill me, if that’s true?”

“No, but it’ll burn a lot.” Without another word, Aziraphale went to the hole they had kissed through before and stuck a hand through. Crowley looked at him incredulously. “You cannot be serious.”

“Very much so. We have to research this new development.” Crowley sighed, got his hand wet, and went over to where Aziraphale was standing. He carefully raised his hand, ready to let a drop fall. 

“Are you sure?”

“Just do it, Crowley.” Wincing a little, Crowley let the drop fall on Aziraphale’s hand, where nothing proceeded to happen quite spectacularly. 

“Exciting,” mused Aziraphale, pulling his hand back and examining it. “What could this possibly mean?”

“Well, whatever it means, might I suggest we ponder it _outside_ the chambers in which we weathered unspeakable torture?”

“Wonderful idea, my dear.” Crowley’s eyes widened, and his mouth tried and failed to find a sound. “Oh really, Crowley, we had a whole love confession just a bit ago.”

“Yes, but-”

“Come on, it’s another thing to discuss when we get out of here.” And so they went, picking their way through broken glass and melted entities. They met a few living ones too, but those they saw made themselves scarce quickly enough. Finally, they reached an elevator, and got on, picking the only button on the panel. 

As they ascended, Aziraphale laced his fingers in Crowley’s and smiled. “You know, Crowley, I read somewhere that a good way to get out of apologizing too much is to change them into thank yous.”

“Oh? Seems very clever.”

“It really does. So thank you Crowley. Thank you for waiting.”

Crowley wound his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Anything for you, angel. Anything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the days after their second botched execution, they discovered some things. For one, whatever changes had occurred had taken away some of there specifically-angelic or specifically-demonic abilities, but left them with a new energy they had yet to explore in full. 

They also discovered that, while they had eventually made it out with their bodies unscathed, their psyches were not, and the scars from this ordeal added themselves to the things they had endured over the past 6000 years. 

But they also learned that they weren’t alone. They had each other, of course, but they also had their friends. Aziraphale had called Anathema to tell her that things had gone down, and to be alert in case the angels took revenge on them. Twenty minutes later, her and Newt were on the threshold of the bookshop with a casserole and two hand knitted blankets (they were meant to be holiday presents, but the circumstances made them move the giving up a few months). The Them showed up a week later, stories of their first week of school and art projects for Crowley and Aziraphale in hand. Even Shadwell and Madame Tracy came to visit, and it turns out after years of calming people down after tragedies through pretend psychic readings, she had a knack for listening to people’s problems (though she made it clear she did not replace a professional, you gentlemen should find someone, the things you’ve been through, poor dears…). So a road to recovery, though set back by recent events, trundled onwards. 

And finally, they learned that their love for each other was deeper than they could have ever imagined. Before, they had danced in shallow waves, like birds scared to get their feet wet. But now, the depths spanned out before them, and they had so much to explore. 

Sometimes, it turned out, this exploring consisted of them cuddling on the couch, a nature documentary playing in the background. 

“I’ve always said,” murmured Aziraphale, his fingers tangled in Crowley’s hair, “that your eyes were more like a cat than a snake.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. First of all, I am actually a snake. Secondly, I am nothing like a cat, Azira-” At that moment, Aziraphale scratched the top Crowley’s head, and Crowley melted, snuggling closer to Aziraphale. “Ok. Maybe I’m a _little_ like a cat.” Aziraphale chuckled at that. 

“Hey, Crowley?” Crowley hummed in response, and Aziraphale leaned down to whisper, “I love you,” in his ear. 

“I love you too, Aziraphale.” And they weren’t the last words of their lives, as they had thought they would be, but they were the last words of the night, as Crowley dozed off, and Aziraphale learned a little more about elephants from the telly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a kudos or comment!
> 
> If you want to yell at me for the pain I've inflicted, or just chat, I'm at @one-true-houselight on tumblr!
> 
> Thanks again!


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